


Watch it all fall down (Babylon)

by bottomchanyeol, vesperss



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomchanyeol/pseuds/bottomchanyeol, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperss/pseuds/vesperss
Summary: Chanyeol and Sehun are the typical bad boys who give each other rides on their motor bikes, cut class together just to make out, and spend their weekends getting high and fucking in their apartment while Sweet Emotion plays in the background.- This fanwork was written for round 2 of the bottom!Chanyeol fest [2018/19].





	Watch it all fall down (Babylon)

**Author's Note:**

> It is the very first time I do this and it has been, probably, really obvious to our precious mods and and now to you, precious readers. So I’m keeping this very short:
> 
> First of all, I don’t know how to start hihi. This fic is my newborn baby, I’ve been into writing for quite some time but I never thought of actually publishing anything but you know, one day I said, why not? And I took the chance. And the journey was amazing, even though I joined very late, it was worth it.
> 
> There were way too many hardships because my luck is astonishingly horrendous, God, I thought of dropping out of this so many times but I’m so glad I didn’t! I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that my beloved prompter likes at least one tiny bit what came out of my two brain cells. I’m telling you, they worked hard. Harder than they do with my uni projects but that’s not the point.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone involved in this fest, please, enjoy! ^^

_Ocbober 16 th, 2018_

 

Infuriated, would be the word to describe the old, skimpy, pale woman who stands in front of the class, trying to get at least half of her students to learn the basics, anything, of Philosophy. Mrs. Haskins’ face could easily be read as a devious mask. Overflowed rage colored red, frenzy warm, bitter hot, mad sizzling. However, what made the situation frightening is the dead tone of her voice.

"Get out," Irene Haskins’ low, passive speak holds the rest of his students by the throat and keeps the grip until his vocal cords let out all the accumulated wrath contained inside of her bitty body, releasing one absurd squeak.

Finally, the pitch black-haired boy, who had been avidly biting his boyfriend’s lips a moment ago, turns his head around in a soft swift movement. His brown, offended eyes glance at the figure of authority for a few seconds before shifting his position straight. Then, he parts his lips, willing to ask what were they doing, that earned him and his lover a pass out of the classroom, but before he performs said action, the slender young man beside him, takes him by the arm and solemnly pulls him up.

Chanyeol knows better, he guessed; Sehun is still curious though. They weren’t interrupting nor were they being a nuisance, if other all the were peeking at their business it isn’t Chanyeol’s, nor Sehun’s fault at all.

So hand by hand, sweeping across the classroom wearing confident steps, both of them walk past the door, leaving a hysterical lady behind, amongst not so hysterical but astonished young students, who find the pair's erratic behavior gut-busting — most of the time, at least —.

Not a soul in their right mind would do anything about their antics; Sehun Oh and Chanyeol Park, apart from being idly and somewhat messy, are smart. Not good students, absolutely not model scholars, but they had brains, and they knew well, how to use them.

“Hm, think I left Bertha at home,”  Chanyeol whirrs his teeth and throws his mostly unfilled backpack to the green of the field, next to where his boyfriend sits, “did you want some? I’m not really in the mood.”

Sehun observes quietly as his boyfriend's hefty, yet soft frame, rearranges his position several times until he finds the perfect spot: Chanyeol’s bright pearly locks spread on Sehun’s quadriceps, very slightly covered by the fabric of those black —too ripped— jeans Chanyeol bought for himself but are way too short for his too long limbs; the tips of thick hair causing gentle tickles to Sehun’s exposed skin.

“No s’okay,” a husky, guttural voice leaves Sehun’s relaxed lips.

Bertha, Chanyeol's wood case where he keeps his and Sehun's prepared joints, had accidentally fallen to the toilet, right after Chanyeol threw up the day before due to a bottle of expired alcohol, but Sehun doesn’t have the heart to tell Chanyeol that his dearest is long gone. Perhaps he would do it later, inside the coziness of their apartment, cooking dinner, watching a movie or eating him out. Chanyeol, surely, wouldn’t complain about Bertha if he is involved doing any of those three things.

“Good. Kiss me?”

Sehun feels a chuffed chuckle running through his chest and ending up at the end of his palate. A good kind of chuffed, of course, because he likes it when Chanyeol asks him to do something he would do anyway. For example, kissing him.

Sehun thinks he would be completely nuts if he doesn’t comply to his boyfriend’s wishes right away, not because Chanyeol is scary —he is not, never was— but because Chanyeol’s lips look particularly charming. Inviting, is the word to describe them without getting in too much trouble. Makes his own pair feel tingly.

“N’what if I say no?” Sehun’s lazy, playful gaze inspected Chanyeol’s mouth. Expecting him to shrug it off and, possibly, ignoring the question to get up and kiss him himself, because, for fucks sake, Sehun, does he have to do it all himself?

Yet, Chanyeol didn’t even move. Not for a moment, at least, then his lips open and move: “I’m filling your sinuses with my very own pee.”

Sehun wants to laugh but Chanyeol’s seriousness left him speechless and, apparently, laughterless. None of them believe the puppy eyed man would get  his pee anywhere near his boyfriend’s face, but then, why did he sound so genuine?

Sehun kisses him.

First, he made Chanyeol get up from the comfortable spot he found until his heavy thighs are on top of Sehun’s. The latter uses one of his hands to cup one of Chanyeol’s ass-cheeks, and the other hand to cup one of his —face— cheeks, pulling him close, close and closer until their lips find each other.

Sehun kisses him, yes, because he doesn’t want no pee in his sinuses.

 

 

 

_October 31 st, 2018_

 

It’s Halloween Day. Witches, clowns, fairies, sexy doctors, some domestic animals —people, dressed as animals—, and many more costumed people, roam around the streets: walking, running, “scaring” innocent souls, making unthinkable and disturbing noises, having fun.

It’s the night when everyone can be everything or anything. The night people can transform themselves into whatever, whoever, whichever they fear the most. Or love the most, since the tradition as it was is long forgotten. Fake folks mutate into faker folks, nice folks switch over to be the new fake folks —until the sun rises again, of course, because some nice folks are too afraid to be as fake as they’d like to be on a daily basis—.

Perhaps, that’s the reason why Chanyeol and Sehun find it so irritating.

Back home in Seoul, the ritual is a, even more, fabricated party that is only popular amongst young adults and teenagers that like the American culture. Everyone else ignores the matter. Chanyeol’s parents taught him to be more aware of his own folklore, to appreciate it and live it and esteem it. Sehun’s parents didn’t really care, but then, he was most of his time at the Park’s home so he took a lot of learnings from the family.

So it’s Halloween Day, both of them are running away from their acquaintances that keep asking them if they’re dressing up as some “bad-ass famous couple”.

Bree Corbett, from Chanyeol’s Microbiology class, told him they would look “banging” as Kim and Kanye. Quoting the girl, “Sehun’s got the butt to be Kim”. Chanyeol agreed, but he doubted his boyfriend would find really fun to wear a wig and a dress that would suffocate his beloved cock. And Chanyeol would never force Sehun to do anything that harmed the fantastic piece of meat that went in his ass quite regularly.

“You have never serenaded me,” Chanyeol mumbles. His head rests gently on Sehun’s shoulder, the fabric of his jacket isn’t cozy; the material is rough and cold, itchy too, but Sehun’s shoulder has been his happy place for as long as he can remember so it’s okay.

“You want me to?” Sehun asks, a tiny bit of mockery dipping his tone. “I never thought you’d like that.”

“And I never said I wanted it but I guess it’d be a cool if you did it out of nowhere.”

“M’gonna do it then, I’ll surprise you, someday.”

Sehun feels his boyfriend’s body move, laughing silently, and looks down expecting to see the man’s pretty dimple exposed in all its blissfulness. Instead he finds Chanyeol looking up at him. Expectantly big eyes telling Sehun so many, many things. Things they couldn’t put into words, things nor them nor anyone, could vocalize because they could only be felt. “Don’t. It’d be cheesy and you can’t sing,” Chanyeol puckers his lips and places a dry kiss on Sehun’s jaw. “Anything I haven’t done for you that you’d like me to do, though?”

Sehun gives it a thought and then shakes his head. In his mind, Chanyeol has done enough to make him feel loved, comfortable and pleased. Asking for more doesn't make any sense.

Even then and there, sitting side to side on the blacktop of the road, Chanyeol’s motorbike paused, three empty cans of beer resting by their feet, two others in each one of their hands and one more inside of Sehun’s backpack, they feel in seventh heaven.

“When we were five you promised me a sunflower,” Sehun says under his breath.

 _“_ Alright, a sunflower it’ll be. _”_

 

 

 

_November 2 nd, 2018_

 

There are times when Chanyeol reads his books out loud, Philosophy, being his favorite general subject, and Sehun listens so very carefully, tries to understand as much as his brain cells are able to process. He is proud to say he's way better at understanding what Chanyeol is babbling about now than when they started seeing each other. However, he might understand better because he agreed to take the same class as Chanyeol —the one that had him stuck with Miss Haskins— and it’s him who helps Sehun study, so he won’t fail a class that he, kind of, is obligated to take.

Also, Sehun is more of a literature guy, even though he doesn't read as much as he would like to, and sadly there's no unfortunate excuse about being too tired or being too busy. Sehun likes reading but he is also too lazy to pick up a book and focus. So he is all ears, mainly when he likes what he’s hearing.

“You're telling me,” Sehun mumbles, hesitating for two or three seconds before continuing, “I might be, all might be, a part of your imagination?”

Sehun takes in his mouth a mouthful of his chocolate cereal with small slices of fresh green apples that his, oh, so thoughtful boyfriend had prepared for him that morning as a way of saying “thank you” for taking care of him and his senseless drunk ass the night before. Chanyeol knows Sehun has a problem with him ingesting too much alcohol, but sometimes his need for a drink was too itchy, that even being aware that Sehun would be too upset at him for the next couple of days wasn’t enough.

Too much of this, too much of that. Too much love, too much sweetness, too much devotion was what they had for each other. Too much was never good. They cared way too little about that.

In the meantime, Chanyeol teeters his head hectically from side to side, figuring out how to submit, entirely, his poorly organized brainwork into words. He is certain Sehun would get the hang of the topic and the weightiness of it even if he worded himself the worst possible way, but that is not the point.

“Not… part of my imagination, no,” Chanyeol objects softly.

Sehun assumed, after a moment, he would continue. That's what he used to do: Chanyeol would take a few seconds to analyze his concepts and then he would spill everything out, full blast.

So he held his puzzled thoughts in place, waiting. Chewing the last bite of his Chocolate Cheerios, complaining to himself about finishing the apple before the cereal… He kept waiting, until he couldn't.

“Part of what, then?” Sehun's snoopy gaze falls on Chanyeol's eyes and then quickly migrates to the thick book he is holding.

It could be, his boyfriend hasn't comprehended enough to give him a detailed explanation. It happens sometimes, usually to Sehun, though.

“Of me.”

Sehun doesn't notice the quiver pouring from his boyfriend's voice but he notices the quietness of it. More often than not, Chanyeol isn’t a quiet person, he has to try really hard to sound gentle, mellow. If he doesn't try he doesn't make it.

Yet there he is, seeming as fragile as possible.

“I mean… it's not as easy as being one part of an entity, it's more like being a sole representation of that entity, as an individual,” Chanyeol carefully moves ahead.

Sehun first narrows his eyes and then nods his head. Making sense of it, slowly, awfully slowly.

“And, in that context, that individual's reality would be the axiom? Or is the individual the axiom?” Sehun questions, seemingly drawn to the hypothesis.

Chanyeol hums, a too artificial tone that both of them decide to ignore. Then he shrugs his shoulders and harshly closes the book, Berkeley and Descartes had no business in the room anymore, hence they left as soon as they arrived.

“Dunno.”

The book flies from Chanyeol’s clutch to the woodened floor of the kitchen. Not the best spot for his newest acquisition to arrive, but fair enough since it brought up a lumbering crisis of monachopsis. Feeling out of place was the type of sensation Chanyeol didn’t feel since he moved in with Sehun, but felt quite a lot when he lived alone.

Chanyeol walked up to Sehun and made him get up from his chair, then he places both of his arms around Sehun’s thin waist and nudges his whole face in Sehun’s bare chest. The younger of them had taken a shower after getting up from bed and his skin was still warm and dewy. Perfect for Chanyeol’s cheek to lay.

 

_Where was Chanyeol Park before he thought of Sehun Oh being, literally —too literally—, a part of himself?_

 

Chanyeol sniffs the younger’s faded scent. Their herbaceous body wash took most of Sehun’s original essence, which Chanyeol adores, and had been to drunk last night to enjoy.

 

_What was he? Was he anything?_

 

Chanyeol doesn’t remember Sehun fucking him last night. He recalls the kisses, the caresses, the tastes. But not the feeling. He knows it happened, yet, he doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember.

 

In any case, Sehun is Chanyeol’s axiom. Sehun is Chanyeol’s, Sehun isn't true and Sehun isn't false, Sehun just is. Sehun is, Sehun is there, and that's enough.

 

_Still and all, Chanyeol isn’t sure if being Chanyeol is enough to Sehun._

 

Shaking his head slightly, closing his eyes and setting a tiny peck on Sehun’s shoulder, in his attempt to get rid of the many perilous conjectures his brain decided to put him through, he said:

“If that theory is correct, bona fide, then you're the best item I could come up with,” as reticent murmur, his breath drifts against Sehun's exposed chest, making the younger shudder momentarily.

“An item? I am an item?” Sehun retorts.

Chanyeol can hear hostility in his boyfriend’s voice, something that makes him feel as diffident and self-conscious as before, or more.

“You know what I mean.”

“No?,” Sehun chirs, “a fucking control remote is an item. I am not,” he pushes Chanyeol off comfortlessly.

“Okay, I phrased it wrong, I'm sorry… Jesus,” Chanyeol says, backing off and taking small steps backwards.

Sehun’s throat itches sharply, he notices Chanyeol struggling with all the words, so many words, too many, hampering inside of his being. He knows how hard it is for Chanyeol to form sentences, to speak even one, when he is nervous, and Lord, Chanyeol gives the impression of being not only nervous but _afraid_.

“It’s fine, Yeollie. Just shut up now and take a shower, we’re gonna be late.”

Sehun bends down to take the book from the floor and places it on top of the counter, next to the box of cereal and jar of milk. Nobody told him living with the love of his life would be so damn exhausting.

“Hurry,” a soft, lenient kiss iss placed on Chanyeol’s cheek.

Too quick to be noticed, probably.

It isn't noticed at all.

 

 

 

_November 3 rd, 2018_

 

**yeollie**

last seen today at 1:21 a.m.

I got pizza!!!!

:/

where are youuuuuu

im going to start eating

ive been starving for like the whole day

hello???

just tell me if youre coming home tonight

I am not letting you in the room if you come home drunk again.

 

 

 

_November 5 th, 2018._

Chanyeol’s ears serve a purpose and that purpose is entertaining Sehun. Those sizable pieces of cartilage attached to his head are excessively elastic. Sehun can smoothly deform them however he pleases, as if they are made of the thinnest rubber, and the action wouldn't harm a pore.

Especially when Sehun is high, Chanyeol’s ears are so much fun.

Fun, fun, fun. Funny. Cute. But funny, mostly funny.

“What’d you do… if I tried to gnaw this one?” Sehun gently caresses Chanyeol’s left ear with his pinky.

Chanyeol giggles.

“Dunno but ain’t that kinky?” 

Sehun thinks Chanyeol’s giggles are cute. Cute, cute, cute. Funny too, but mostly cute. Fucking cute.

And now, Sehun wants to kiss him.

Or suck him off. But his mouth feels chunky. How heavier would it feel with Chanyeol’s cock in it?

“Pull your pants down,” Sehun dictates.

Chanyeol's brain takes a little time to process his boyfriend's words but when it does, a smug smile pops in his face.

“No bite, though. Ears you can bite, no dick… No bite on dick, my dick.”

“No bite on dick," Sehun repeats slowly.

 

 

Two minutes later the theory is proved.

 

Yes, Sehun’s mouth feels so much heavier with his boyfriend’s dick in it.

 

 

 

_November 11 th, 2018_

 

Chanyeol is not sad, but he wouldn’t know how sad feels like now, because his own uncertainty is eating him alive.  He only knows his own healthy, strong, lively body, is overwhelming until it isn't. Until he grabs a bottle of liquor and pours it in his throat. His tongue doesn't feel it, doesn't taste it.

He waits until the substance settles in.

And waits.

And waits.

Until he stops sensing.

 

 

 

_November 20 th, 2018_

 

It is picture perfect. The singular pair of students sitting at the back of the library.

Chanyeol, is writing a paper by hand because Mr. Hotchner wouldn’t accepting it any other way. Sehun, is reading a big book, taking small notes for a World Literature test he’s having in two days.

Every fifteen or twenty minutes they stop what they are doing to kiss and touch.

 

 

 

_November 24 th, 2018_

 

Chanyeol’s cranky gaze is stuck at the ceiling, he blinks repeatedly, pathetically, trying to get ahold of the passive aggressive thoughts clogging his brain.

Sehun didn't come home last night, Sehun also had told him he wouldn’t be coming home because he had a shift to cover for his co-worker. Chanyeol knows Sehun couldn’t say no, to that one co-worker specifically, because they had covered for him on Chanyeol’s birthday a couple of months ago, so Sehun kind of owed the guy.

At the end, Chanyeol is furious over nothing and that embarrasses him to the guts.

It isn't nothing, of course. He has a reason, but it is just as humiliating as pretending he doesn't.

Chanyeol is horny. His dick needs attention, his ass too.

Someone please give his ass some attention, urgent matter right there.

How much time does it have to pass until Sehun gets home? Chanyeol is absurdly offended by the fact that his boyfriend, his own one and only, hadn’t been there to take care of his demands.

_It be your own people._

The day Sehun asked him to be his boyfriend he never said a word about keeping him on abstinence. Or did he? To be honest, Chanyeol could have been too bewildered, astonished and kind of sheepish, but he is almost certainly sure he never signed a no-sex-for-two-weeks contract.

 

 

As soon as Sehun arrives, Chanyeol transforms himself into a human-koala and tackles his boyfriend to the bed. His arms and legs trapping Sehun’s everything to keep him still. There. With him. For him.

 

 

 

 

“Y’know…” Chanyeol whispers, eyes shut, “maybe that’s what had to happen… or didn’t have to happen.”

His dark fluttering eyelashes shimmer blazingly against the golden glare hitting the large window next to their bed. “Maybe I was born to… I don’t know…”

Sehun’s eyes are shut too but he can feel Chanyeol shrugging his shoulders, “to create some destructive shit like Oppenheimer or Einstein and… some… angelic entity said nu-uh.”

“And that angelic thing sent me to you,” Sehun licks his lips and smiles softly, this time, opening his eyes and looking at his boyfriend, “to fuck you up, your whole life and your family’s pride.”

Chanyeol rolles his eyes, vexatious, and quickly puts an arm around Sehun’s torso, “just because I was… you know, it doesn’t mean I wasn’t fucked up already, you were born to make me realize that I was though… fucked up, very fucked up.”

“Mhm, sure,” Sehun sighs while a train of thoughts about what could have been and isn't, roamed into his head from here to there, clouding his mind and making it almost hard to breathe, back and forth, still troublesome to conceive.

But in a second he decides to drop it all, giving himself permission to let the tips of his fingers linger over the thick fabric of the black hoodie that tenderly covers Chanyeol's upper body. The very sweet movements of his phalanges moving around his back, tracing lines, patterns. Slowly, lovingly.

God, he loved him so much.

“Or you’re overthinking it… what if I was born, mainly, to love you?” This time it's Sehun the one shrugging his shoulders, “that’s easier to understand, for me, at least.” Sehun’s sleepy eyes carefully examine Chanyeol’s incarnadined cheeks and smiles softly.

“Yeah, now I’m sure that’s exactly why I was born,” Sehun’s raspy voice laughs over the echo of their room, and that was enough for Chanyeol to hover over the slimmer body of his lover and catch his lips on a dainty kiss.

Chapped lips against chapped lips, they are as used to it as they are used to the smell of cigarettes and alcohol on the other’s breath, it was a familiar scent, a familiar feeling, a familiar taste. And God, they love it. They love them, they love each other and their own, for the sole reason of being together. Maybe it is luck, maybe it is fate, they like to think it is their own fabricated story, one that started the way they wanted to and could end that way as well… They are sure, though, they aren't ending it anytime soon.

Sehun's fingertips wander slyly around the edge of Chanyeol's hoodie, touching a little bit of the denuded skin of the taller's thighs, caressing and grabbing and loving every inch.

Chanyeol as a whole is a wonder, a wonder Sehun gets to touch, gets to adore with his entire being. He can't explain himself how could he be so lucky to be loved by precious, inestimable, pure Chanyeol.

The silver haired boy has a certain look on the outside not matching his inside. Tough, boorish, acrid Chanyeol; against caring, tender, passionate Chanyeol. Sehun loves both.

He loves trailing kisses all over his skin, any part of his skin, call it cheeks, nose, shoulders, chin, ears, cock, hands, thighs… Sehun just, dearly, loves Chanyeol. He doesn't kiss a body, he embraces the body —and the owner of said body—, through his lips. Through his hands, through his eyes, though his heart.

“Let me ride you,” Chanyeol purrs before devouring Sehun’s mouth as his own.

Eyes closed, mouth agape, shaking from head to toe, Chanyeol plops down on top of Sehun, getting his boyfriend’s shaft eagerly, zealously inside of him.

Observing his boyfriend's actions and reactions as thoroughly as he could, Sehun couldn't think of anything else more delightful than Chanyeol. Fulsome, yearning big eyes, feverish cheeks and sweaty glistening skin. The man spread over him looked like a deity. Too astonishing to be human, too winsome even in the moment they were in, too sublime for Sehun to handle.

“C’mere, give me a kiss,” Sehun demands, trailing a soft caress from Chanyeol's exposed hip, through the fabric of his hoodie, to end on his neck to drag him down, until their lips, frenziedly, collide.

It was gloaming outside, golden sparkles of almost faded sunlight hit Chanyeol’s face and neck. He moans, not groans nor whimpers, and it is incredibly lascivious. He asks Sehun to go faster and go deeper and rougher. And Sehun can barely put himself together. His mind is scratching, he wants to think of something, of anything. He needs focus, not Chanyeol.

But he did need Chanyeol.

He is too concentrated on not needing anything, or else he will fall into the void. Sehun would be lost in Chanyeol, if he isn't already.

Sehun loves him.

Sehun thought he couldn’t love him more, then Chanyeol looks at him and smiles, dimple showing, cheeks glowing, and he is gone.

Once again. Sehun is gone.

And he doesn't want to come back.

He complies, Sehun fucks into Chanyeol: faster, deeper, rougher. Everything Chanyeol wants, Sehun does.

 

 

 

_November 26 th, 2018_

 

They got lost trying to find a new place to eat. Someone told them it was good, the ride was worth it.

That someone was right, just not for the reason they had in mind.

 

Sehun pulls back some strands of silver hair that earn a soft moan from Chanyeol, the latter had been bent down on top of his motorbike, his black jeans and underwear are pulled down to his knees while Sehun’s fingers work him up.

Perhaps they didn’t find the place they were looking for, but they found a place to fulfill their kind-of-public-sex needs.

 

 

 

_November 27 th, 2018_

 

Chanyeol's head jolted back abruptly as he felt his boyfriend's skilled fingers playing teasingly with the pair of round amethysts of his piercings. Truly beautiful, the way the lavender shade contrasted against his skin.

Sehun doesn't have to directly touch Chanyeol’s nipples to have him squirming below him. And Sehun, being himself, can't get enough of it. With a smirk sketching on his face, Sehun holds Chanyeol’s dick with one hand, gripping at the base, stopping him from going further.

The need to let his tongue wander around the blush pink head of Chanyeol’s shaft is eager.

But that need could wait, though. First, his big baby has to beg for it.

“Don't be a jerk,” Chanyeol groans, and Sehun sniggers.

“I'm not, love.”

Sehun leans down on top of Chanyeol, he takes one of his amethysts in between his teeth and pulls of it carefully, allowing his lips to make minimum contact with Chanyeol's overwrought skin. Using one hand to hold Chanyeol’s hips and the other on his dick to keep him from coming, Sehun feels as if, maybe, that was why he was born.

To make Chanyeol Park feel.

 

 

 

_November 28 th, 2018_

 

Sex before bed, again.

Late at night, when Sehun is sleeping, Chanyeol gets up and leaves the apartment to get a bottle of the cheapest whisky he can get from the convenience store.

 

 

 

_December 1 st, 2018_

 

There is something up, Sehun can't understand very well but he is sure Chanyeol said something along the lines of being drained, of being overwhelmed, of feeling unloved and unwanted and nonessential.

There is something up, but Sehun didn’t realize sooner it would be fatal.

 

 

 

_December 4 th, 2018._

 

Chanyeol’s body is spread on the floor, a bottle of rubbing alcohol sits accommodated between his thighs. His eyes look sore, troubled, swollen. And more. Less.

Chanyeol looks lessen.

His body lounging to shut down, temporarily or completely.

 _Completely_ , is what Sehun fears.

 

“God, excuse me for freaking out, I _only_ thought you were dead!”

Sehun's eyes can barely stay open, too many tears clouding his sight, too many emotions flooding his entire being. He feels like he could pass out right there, hitting the floor and some of the furniture on the way, and he would have, if Chanyeol’s state wasn't worse than his own.

“I'm taking you to the shower, let's go,” Sehun blurts, voice cracking and hands shaking, he reaches to his boyfriend to help him get up. The one boyfriend who looks too gone to understand the sting, the burn Sehun is feeling inside of his chest.

“Careful, that hurts,” Chanyeol blabbers and tries to adjust himself in Sehun's arms.

“Well, you would hold yourself if you weren't in this bad shape, if you knew when to fucking quit but you don't so shut up and let me do everything myself.”

And Sehun isn't kidding, nor being dramatic.

He prepared the bathtub, removed Chanyeol’s clothes, washed his hair, his back, his face, his everything, and then tucked him into bed.

Sehun did everything wearing a frown, a straight line as a mouth and a strand of hair out of place. Thirty minutes bearing the same facial expression to cover the titanic pain blossoming second after second, deep in his chest.

Maybe, if it wasn't physically impossible, his ribcage would detonate and break out.

 

But Sehun can't afford that, he can't afford losing Chanyeol because that would mean losing himself.

 

 

 

_December 30 th, 2018_

 

It hasn’t been a month but Chanyeol is better, and Chanyeol misses him.

He misses Sehun.

Chanyeol misses Sehun so, so much.

So he dials his phone number and presses Call.

 

Sehun answers.

 

 

 

_December 31 st, 2018_

 

Sehun puts the helmet on his head. Some messy strands of hair are poking out, tickling his forehead. He had cut it shorter than usual and still isn't accustomed to it, he thinks he looks weird every time he finds his reflection, but nonetheless, he likes the look. Maybe Chanyeol will like it too.

As young drops of water start falling from the sky, he sits on top of his old, black Yamaha, places both of his feet on the footpegs and pulls the clutch in towards the handle bar. He takes one breath, two breaths. And, the moment he feels he is ready, Sehun presses the button to start the machine.

 

2760 seconds after, he’s laying his eyes on Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol with longer hair, still silver but dark roots exposed. Chanyeol with a nervous frown, velvety lips and fuller cheeks. Chanyeol wearing a white shirt and blue jeans instead of all black, maybe, except for that treasured black leather jacket he stole from his uncle at age 18 before leaving South Korea. Chanyeol trying to calm his shaky hands and wobbly steps.

Perhaps, very important too, Chanyeol doing the poorest job at hiding an immense sunflower behind his back.

 

Sehun thinks, in spite of all, he loves him again.

 

But then, probably, _he always did_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, again!
> 
> In case you're interested, I made a video to illustrate the ~vibe~ of the fic. Since my drawing skills are kind of gone I decided to make this, at least. I was about to pass out at 6:00 a.m. because I wanted to finish it but it was worth it!
> 
> And well, if you didn't know (I should have said it before), the title of the fic is from a song by 5 Seconds of Summer - Babylon. Check it out, it's amazing TT
> 
> Link to the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNDh0KWjKto


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